


A Letter From The Lost

by TheWhiteShellMermaid



Series: What Witches Do For Christmas [4]
Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom, The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Its not very christmasy, Warning: Mentions of abuse, Warning: PTSD flashbacks, Worst Witch Winter Warmers 2019, her parents love her, meet the parents, they didn't know Broomhead was a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhiteShellMermaid/pseuds/TheWhiteShellMermaid
Summary: Constance recieves a letter from someone she believes is lost to her. She takes the twins to investigate, only to discover otherwise.
Series: What Witches Do For Christmas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567606
Kudos: 3





	A Letter From The Lost

  
Constance looks down at the envelopes in hands as she walks back inside the castle. The first one is a Yule card from Amelia, who sends them one every year, usually accompanied by a photo of herself, her brother and his family. She decides to let her girls open it and shifts her attention to the other one. She frowns slightly at the handwriting she almost doesn't recognize and flips it over in her hands. The return address is for a town on the coast, one she's never heard of before, but the handwriting dredges up memories from her past. 

She waits until she's back inside, settled by the fire in the staff room with the girls nearby looking at Amelia's card, to open it. After slitting the envelope with magic, she pulls out a card decorated with a Yule tree and opens it to find a letter folded inside. She takes it and opens it up, scanning it for any sign of who it could be from. 

Suddenly, it is blatantly clear why the writing is familiar to her. It's her mother's writing. But that's impossible because her mother has been dead for over two decades. So has her father. On top of that, the second word on the page is Connie, something only her parents have ever called her. But none of this is possible, because they are both dead. The letter goes on to explain things that couldn't possibly be true - the fire, set to kill them, only they hadn't been home to die in it, something the arsonist had failed to notice - but if they were alive, why had they left her to suffer at Broomhead's hand? Why had they let her take custody? _Why had they abandoned her?_

“Mama?” 

She looks up to see the twins in front of her, concerned looks on their identical faces. “Yes, girls?” 

“Are you alright? You're crying, Mama.” Leah's voice is soft, worried. 

Constance reaches up to touch her face, to find she does indeed have tears on her cheeks. “I'm fine, girls. Really.” 

The girls don't seem convinced. “Is it that letter?” Eva questions.

“Is it bad?” Leah adds anxiously. 

Constance smiles softly, in reassurance. “No love, it's not bad. It just . . .doesn't make much sense. Here have a look.” 

The girls take the paper and frown over it. “It really doesn't make sense. It's not even in English.” Says Eva confusedly. 

“It's not even in Latin.” Leah adds. 

It's Constance's turn to be confused now. “What do you mean? Of course it is.” She takes it back and looks again. It's the same perfectly English handwriting as it was before. 

“No.” Says Eva. She leans over to look again. “Maybe someone put a spell on it. So only you can read it.” 

Constance agrees with that. She holds her hand over the paper and mutters a detection spell. “It seems you are right, Eva. There was magic used on this letter. A secreting spell if I'm not mistaken.” 

The girls look up at her with wide eyes. “But why?”

So Constance goes on to explain the contents of the letter. The girls are as shocked and confused as she is and bring up the idea to use a true author spell. She thinks that's a good idea and let's Eva cast the spell. 

The mystery deepens, however, when the image that fades into existence above the letter reveals a strangely familiar woman sitting at a table writing the letter in question. 

Constance recognizes her immediately. She looks older than the last she saw her, but that was close to three decades ago. Her black hair is run through with grey and her face is lined where it wasn't before but other than that she is a perfect carbon copy of Constance. 

The girls’ eyebrows rise in surprise at the image. “Is she your mother, mum? She looks like you.” 

Constance nods slowly as the image fades. “Yes. Yes she is.”

The sisters exchange a look. “What does this mean?” 

Her answer is quiet. “I don't know.” She is hesitant to believe any of this could possibly be true. Of course, she had also been skeptical about the existence of fictional lands, even after she'd met the twins. However, their memories of the place from which they'd come were so vivid they could not possibly be made up. “Perhaps we should investigate.” 

So they did.

The next day, they set out on their brooms towards the coast, following the letter as it floats ahead under the effects of a locator spell. Constance is anxious over her decision to bring the girls along - she doesn't want them caught in the crossfire if things go south - but she also doesn't want to leave them alone at the castle, especially at Yule. Regardless, she wouldn't be taking them along if they weren't such proficient witches. 

The girls understand the danger they could be flying into, but they are also both nervous and excited for this adventure away from their castle home. They don't leave it often and when they do it's always for a school event that has them traveling in a large group. It's different with just the three of them but they adjust quickly and despite their lack of experience in long distance flights they are steady flyers and Constance doesn't have to correct them at all. 

Soon the air smells salty and the trees and hills give way to a small coastal town. The girls have never seen the ocean, or the North Sea that stretches between England and the continent and they gasp in awe at the vast expanse of water.

They keep going, the chilly winter weather pushing them on until the enchanted letter leads them to land in the yard of a nondescript house on the edge of town where the land meets the sea. There's a warm glow coming from within but the trio hesitate as they watch the letter float to the door and drop to the ground. 

Constance refuses to believe any of this and expects her former tutor to burst through the door with a curse at the ready as she leads the way up to the front stoop. She keeps the girls behind her as she knocks on the door and prepares a protection spell as they wait. The girls do as well and by the time they hear footsteps inside she has worked herself up into thinking they are all about to die and reprimands herself for putting her girls in danger with this incredibly foolish escapade.

She snaps back to reality when the door opens to reveal the same woman from the true author spell and she can't stop her jaw from dropping slightly when she sees her mother, alive and well, with her own two eyes. 

“Constance?” Her voice cracks and there are tears in her eyes. “Oh my goddess.” 

She moves as if to hug her daughter, but Constance steps back abruptly. She doesn't believe this, can't believe this. Her breaths speed up, she doesn't know what to do now that she's actually faced with this - this - whatever this is. But then she feels her girls presence just behind her, their magic soft against hers and it soothes her as only they can and she can think again. 

“Tell me something only my mother would know.” She says. “Tell me, what was the first potion I ever brewed? How old was I and what happened?” 

The older woman looks taken aback for a moment but she seems to understand. “You were just barely three years old. It was one of those beginner potions that don't involve heat, one to grow flowers instantly. I told you to take it outside and find a nice spot in the yard and you chose the herb garden. Before I could stop you, you dumped the whole lot in there. I planned to move them, but they were just so lovely I had to leave them. You were so proud, Constance.” She said dreamily. “Your little face when it worked. I wish I'd gotten a picture.” There is a look on her face that can only be that of a mother's love for her daughter. 

Constance's cheeks are pink by the end, but she has tears in her eyes. “It is you, then. I - I don't understand - I thought you were _dead_.” 

Her mother looks up at her. “I know, Constance, and I'm so sorry.” 

When nothing remotely violent or dangerous happens upon the opening of the door and events remain calm, if not slightly emotional, and the girls have listened silently to the older woman's story, they peak out from behind their mother to get a look at what's going on. 

The woman they presume to be their adoptive grandmother notices them instantly and her smile widens. “Oh Connie! Are these little witches yours? They're precious!” 

The twins shrink back a bit at her sudden excitement and Constance tries to calm her mother before she frightens her girls. 

“Yes, mother, these are my girls, Eva and Leah.” She gently urges the two girls to come out from their hiding spot. “Girls, this is my mother, Iphigenia.”

The girls look up at her with round eyes. “Hello. I'm Eva and this is Leah.” Says Eva, feeling she should clarify who is who. 

Iphigenia smiles back. “I'm very pleased to meet you, Eva and Leah. I'm your mother’s mum. Your grandmother.” 

“ _I am **your grandmother!** You will listen and do as I say!” Grandmother screeched, and she roughly pinned little Eva to a wall with a hand on her throat, strangling her. _

_Eva gasped and struggled for air as Leah cried for her sister, earning a sharp backhand to the face that sent her sprawling across the floor._

Eva and Leah go pale. The color drains from their faces and they stumble back in sudden terror. The world tilts on its axis and their throats go tight. 

“Girls?” Iphigenia questions, alarmed. 

She reaches out to them with her hand to try and comfort them, but at the sight of a hand coming towards them, they panic. 

_Grandmother’s hand connects with Leah's face, leaving an angry red hand shaped mark and a nasty gash on her cheek._

_The same hand tangles in Eva's hair and yanks painfully, dragging her down a shadowy corridor._

_It wields a sharp dagger, the blade shining in the candlelight before flashing across sickly pale skin._

_Sometimes, it conjures a fireball, or a dangerous curse and little girls scream on the floor in agony when it makes contact._

Leah screams and stumbles backwards down the steps, her arms flailing and inadvertently dragging her sister with her. Constance reaches for them but she's too late and they fall into the snow. From the snow, they turn and try to get away. 

_“Don't you run from me!” Grandmother’s voice rings out, heavy with fury and she sends the girls flying across the floor with a curse that connects with their backs._

Leah chokes on her tears as her lungs constrict and she can't breathe as she lays in the snow struggling for air through her panic. Beside her Eva has curled into herself, rocking and sobbing with her hands pressed to her ears. 

Iphigenia doesn't know what to do and she feels awful, knowing she’s done this. “Constance, what's -” 

But Constance isn't listening. She rushes down the steps and over to her girls, kneeling in front of them. She reaches for Leah first, seeing that she’s struggling to breathe, but stops. Leah mightn't respond well to touch, not now. 

“Leah. Eva.” Her voice is gentle, soothing if ever it was. “It's alright. She's not here. She can't hurt you now. You are safe.”

“Safe.” Eva mumbles through her tears. 

Constance nods. “That's right. You'll always be safe with me.” She pauses. “May I hold you? You like it when I hold you, don't you?” 

“Hold me, safe.” Eva sniffles, and Leah reaches for her, often a bit more comfortable with physical contact than her sister. 

Constance pulls her younger daughter into her arms and holds her. She can feel her trembling against her as her small hands grip fistfuls of her clothes. She braces a hand on the back of her girl’s head and holds the other out for Eva, who falls into her arms and latches onto her in the same way Leah has. 

“You're okay. It's okay.” She whispers calmly. “Just breathe for me, nice and slow. You are safe here.” 

They sit like that for a moment until Iphigenia approaches them carefully and the girls tense up in Constance's arms. She strokes her hand through Leah's dark hair and rubs soothing circles on Eva's back. “It's alright. She won't hurt you. She's safe.” 

The girls aren't so sure, however, and they refuse to detach themselves from their mother, flinching when Iphigenia speaks. 

“Constance, I - what just happened? Are they alright?” She couldn't keep the worry and confusion from her voice.

Constance looks up. “They will be fine. But we usually avoid the g-word. It is very triggering for them.” She explains gently. “But it's not your fault. You didn't know.” She adds.

“What do you mean? What g-word?” The older witch questions, before it dawns on her what word her daughter means. “Oh. But - I don't understand.” 

“I wouldn't expect you to. I will explain, but I'd rather get the girls inside first. It’s cold and I don't want them getting sick. They don't have the best immune systems.” Constance explains. 

“Of course.” Iphigenia replies. 

  
She leads them inside to the cozy living room and once everyone is settled with warm mugs of tea, Constance asks after her father, who is apparently in town. She knows she will have to retell the entire story when he gets back, but she can see her mother is anxious for answers so goes ahead anyway. 

Once she's sure the girls are comfortably snuggled against her, she looks to her mother and begins. “The first thing you should know, is that they are not mine biologically. I adopted them when they were eleven.”

This makes her mother smile. “Oh, Constance that's wonderful! I always did like that idea. Giving a home to a child in need. How did you meet? Oh don't tell me. It was through the school wasn't it?” 

It had taken them a long time, but Constance's parents had finally tracked her down to a small boarding school in the hills. It is called Cackle’s Academy.

“In a manner of speaking. I found them unconscious and injured in the courtyard that summer. When I discovered what they were running from I insisted they stay. I was afraid of where they'd end up if they were put into the system.” She looks down at her girls, only to find them both sound asleep, their tea finished and forgotten. “They've been through a lot of trauma, mother. The reason they reacted the way they did when you introduced yourself as ‘their grandmother’ is because they were in the care - or lack thereof - of their biological grandmother before they ran away and met me. She -” 

Constance stops abruptly. Her hold on her daughters tightens protectively. “She did terrible things to them. She never cared for them, let alone loved them and they never knew their birth parents. Their father died before they were born, supposedly at their grandmother’s hand and their birth mother - well I honestly don't know. They think she believes them dead. The whole situation was that of their grandmother's machinations. She didn't like who their father was so she tore the lot of them apart as punishment.” 

Iphigenia is shocked. “That's awful. I assume by terrible things, you mean -” 

Constance cut her off. “They were abused, yes. In more ways than one.” She can't stop her tears from falling. “When I first met them when they woke in my arms afraid I would hurt them and covered in scars, _all I saw was myself._ I couldn't let them end up like me, I needed them to know that they are lovable and that it was safe to love in return.” She stops, suddenly realizing what she's done.

“What?” Her mother frowns. “What do you mean, you saw yourself in them? Constance - did - did somebody hurt you?” 

Constance looks away. She stares at the glistening Yule tree standing in the corner, the poinsettia plant on the mantel and the black cat stretched out by the fire. She refuses to meet her mother's eyes. 

“Constance? Please, answer me. Did someone hurt you?” Iphigenia repeats, a pained look on her face. 

Constance however, is very good at keeping quiet. She turns her attention to her daughters snuggled together practically in her lap and rubs soothing circles on their arms. 

They stay like that, in silence, until they hear the front door opening and closing. Iphigenia immediately gets up. 

“Edward! Come in here, quick!” She calls and there are fast footsteps out in the hall. 

“What's wrong?!” Edward Hardbroom exclaims as he enters, alarmed. 

“Look who's here!” His wife replies, the previous conversation forgotten. 

Edward looks around to see his daughter. “Constance? Is that you?” 

The younger witch looks up and the girls, jarred awake by the loud voices, follow suit. “Yes father, it's me. And these are my daughters, Eva and Leah.”

“Hello.” The girls whisper timidly, and Edward’s smile widens. 

“Grandchildren! Constance that's wonderful.” He looks around questioningly. “Where is your husband then? I should like to meet him. I expect you chose a respectable wizard.” 

Constance cringes inwardly at the idea of being married, to a wizard no less. Iphigenia gives Edward a displeased look. She has clearly gathered that her daughter isn't married. Not that she cares anyway. As long as Constance is happy that's all that matters to her.

“Edward! It hardly matters does it?” 

He looks at her. “Of course it matters, Gen. She's our daughter and a Hardbroom at that. We can't have people thinking we’ve raised a -”

He is cut off abruptly by his daughter, who has risen from the couch to face him. “Don't finish that. I am not a child anymore, father, and I don't think you have much of a right to say you raised me. Not after you left me with that - that woman.” Her voice is dangerously low. The girls glance at each other. This is the tone she saves for when she is especially furious. They have never had it directed at them but they have heard it, and it is chilling. “And, father, I'll have you know I am not married. I -” 

He cuts her off abruptly. “So you're an unwed mother then? You went out and got knocked up by some halfwit who didn't even have the decency to stick around? I thought we raised you better than that, Constance!” He exclaims. 

Constance just stands there, shocked and hurt. In her silence, Eva jumps off the couch, her cheeks pink and her eyes filled with tears. “What is wrong with you?! How can you just stand there and -” her breath hitches and she rubs at her eyes. “She's the best thing that has ever happened to us and she has done nothing but try to fix us since the day we met! There was a time when we wanted nothing more than to be with our birth parents but that will never happen because our father is dead and our mother is - not worth it. You've just been reunited with your only daughter and you can do nothing but stand there and tell her she's a disappointment because why? She wanted to love two little broken girls who thought they were unlovable?” Her chest heaves and hot tears stream down her face. And then she vanishes. 

Edward’s jaw drops a bit. No one is quite sure whether it's to do with Eva's words or her perfectly executed transference spell or both. He looks up at his daughter, whose lips are pressed into a thin line. 

“In case you didn't understand what she was getting at, father, they are adopted.” She says, her voice low and dangerous. “It may not have been planned, but it is the best decision I've ever made and frankly I don't care what you think of it.” 

Edward recovers himself. “Adopted?” He looks to Leah then. “Is this true?”

Leah, who's gotten up at this point, shifts closer to Constance and though she's rather too old to be holding her mother's hand, does so anyway. “Yes.” She whispers. “Mama loves us. She gave us everything we never had before. She made our lives worth living.” 

Edward feels awful in this moment. Clearly, he's completely misread the situation. “Leah.” He kneels down in front of her. “I am truly sorry I upset your sister. It was not my intention.” He looks between her and his daughter but still focuses on the young girl. “I was very surprised to see Constance after so long and I suppose I still see her as the young girl we left. But she's not and I can see she's very capable of making her own decisions.” He says gently.

Leah looks up at him, her head tilted slightly. “Why did you leave _her_? With - with her? I-I don't understand. You left her with someone who hurt her. Why would you do that?” 

He sighs. “I think that's something she would like to know too. But I think we should find your sister first don't you?” He points out.

Leah watches him seriously. “Eva is okay. Sometimes it's best to give her some space. Let her breathe. Why did you leave her?” She asks again.

He frowns. “How do you know that? She just - wait, what? We left her with Mistress Broomhead. She looked after you - didn't she?” He looks up at his daughter in confusion. 

Constance is staring at the wall, looking tense and anxious at the mention of her former tutor. “No, she didn't.” She states bluntly and pulls Leah closer to her in her fear. “You left me with the very witch who tried to have you killed! Do you have any idea what she did to me!” 

Iphigenia gasps. “What do mean? Those arsonists were magic snatchers, not -”

“She _is_ a magic snatcher! She's a Wormwood! As soon as my magic was matured she tried to snatch it! I barely made it out alive!” Constance exclaims. She is trembling slightly and clutching Leah to her. 

Leah hugs her. “It's okay mama. She's not here. She can't hurt you anymore.” 

Constance takes a deep breath and runs her hand through Leah's hair as her daughter lays her head on her chest. “She told me she had you killed so I would be left in her custody. She clearly was not a fit caregiver but no one would risk standing against her. A girl in the year above me _died_ at her hand but no one did a thing about it for the same reason they ignored the girls wandering around with injuries that were clearly not self inflicted. Those girls had it easy. _I_ was her favourite. I was seldom even given time to eat or sleep. She experimented on me. She beat me when I wasn't _perfect_ , the slightest mistake and I'd be lying half dead on her classroom floor. She tried to keep me in after I graduated. I ran and she stopped me. We fought, but she made the mistake of teaching me all of her moves. I won and I escaped. Physically, I am free, but I still have the scars.” 

Iphigenia and Edward look devastated. They had truly had no idea. Iphigenia has tears in her eyes. 

“Oh Constance. I - we - we didn't know. When we left you, we thought it was for the best. Mistress Broomhead is a powerful witch and we thought she would protect you.” She explains, her eyes full of pain.

Constance looks away, still hugging Leah to her. “Power built on stolen magic.” 

There is silence for a long moment before Edward speaks. “We missed you Constance. We looked for you after you left college but it seems you are as good at hiding as we are.” 

Iphigenia takes a step forward. “Leaving you was the hardest thing we've ever done.”

Constance looks up, unable to hide the tears in her eyes. Then why did you do it? She wants to ask. You could have protected me yourselves. “I think I should go and find Eva now.” She says instead. “Leah? Do you know where she might have gone?” 

Leah reaches out with her magic. It ripples around her like water and pokes testingly at the other three auras in the room before stretching through the house and then beyond. She feels the steady, calm magic of the forest and the busy, messy magic of the town. She also feels another magic, one she doesn't recognize. It's free and fleeting, somewhat temperamental but also soothing. It's the ocean. It's here that she locates her sister’s familiar aura, so similar it's almost an extension of her own. 

“She's by the ocean.” 


End file.
